


Executive Order

by menel



Category: London Has Fallen, Olympus Has Fallen (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If it comes to it, I want you to kill me. That’s an order.” A ficlet capitalizing on that intense underground scene between Asher and Banning in <i>London Has Fallen</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Executive Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinders/gifts).



> For you, my dear, since this was all your idea. :)

Ben had never been more thankful for all the mornings that Mike had dragged him out jogging or that stupid ‘Presidential race’ joke that Mike continuously tortured him with, than at this moment, running through the underground tunnel system of London to stay off the city’s CCTV surveillance system. In fact, he wouldn’t mind hearing Mike make that god-awful joke now, just to lighten the otherwise grim mood. He also had never appreciated Salvatore Ferragamo shoes more, the fine leather becoming softer and more pliable with each step, even though these shoes hadn’t been designed with so much activity in mind. 

The air in the passageway was a little heavy and the space somewhat claustrophobic, but Ben managed to keep pace with Mike. He knew that Mike could push them even harder, but was keeping the pace manageable for him and Ben appreciated the effort. Ben tried to keep his thoughts focused on the now, on the rhythm of his own breathing, on the repetitive motion of putting one foot ahead of the other, on the stable and comforting presence of Mike’s solid back in front of him. Focusing on the now meant that Ben wasn’t thinking about _why_ they were running or _what_ they were running from. Being underground meant that Ben didn’t have to see firsthand the devastation that had been wrought upon London, the sheer unreality that one of the oldest and grandest cities in the world had been turned into a war zone. All because of him.

“ _Not_ because of you,” Mike would tell him fiercely later, the other man’s passion and iron will galvanizing Ben’s own instincts. “Because of _them_.” 

It was hard not to think of Mike as well, as Ben jogged to the right of the other man, one step behind as was proper so that Mike could take point. They were in a combat scenario now and his rank meant nothing in that situation. Mike was completely in charge and he would gladly follow the other man’s orders to the letter. Perhaps what he was most thankful for in what had become the worst day of his life – of his _presidency_ – was that it was Mike who was with him. Not Voight. Not Bronson. Not Mitchell. Or Gomez. Or any of the other Secret Service agents that had been on his protection detail. Just Mike. (Whom he doesn’t call ‘Banning.’ Whom he hasn’t called ‘Banning’ in a very long time.) He believed in his heart that if anyone could get him out of this mess, who could bring him to safety, it would be Mike. He’d already seen first hand Mike’s Special Forces training when Kang had taken over the White House, but even that display paled in comparison to what Mike had done today. In the White House, Mike had had home field advantage, knowing every nook and cranny of the White House that the terrorists for all their planning and their blueprints, would never be able to navigate as smoothly. But London was a different ballgame and the stakes were different too.

Despite that, Ben was calmer and more levelheaded around Mike than he had any right to be. He was beginning to think that the word ‘panic’ didn’t exist in Mike’s vocabulary. If anything, Mike’s instincts were sharpened and heightened by the danger, as if he had simply flipped a switch that made him a lethal killing machine. Lynn had once told Ben that Mike had been in a dark place when he’d first turned up at the Secret Service, that Mike had had to overcome a lot of demons, scars from the Joint Task Force that he’d been assigned to for three years to hunt down terrorists in far flung reaches of the globe. Ben had listened to that story intently, knowing that most of Mike’s service record had been blacked out, but that’s all it had been at the time. A story. A bad one, but a story about Mike’s past. 

Now Ben understood that Mike’s past was something the other man carried with him. That those scars may have faded but they would never disappear. That you could bury those secrets but there was always the threat that they would rise to the surface again. He saw this in the way that Mike had beheaded a terrorist while driving the battered Land Rover back to Somerset House. He’d seen it again in the almost casual manner that Mike had asphyxiated another terrorist masquerading as part of the Metropolitan police, the man suffocating in a strange parody of drowning while Mike had stripped him of his weapons on the street. But most of all, he’d witnessed it in the way Mike had made Kamran’s brother suffer, forcing Kamran to listen to his brother dying over the walkie talkie in response to Kamran’s threat to execute _him_ slowly and over a live broadcast. Ben hadn’t been able to contain how disturbed he’d been by Mike’s ruthlessness. 

“Was that really necessary?” he’d asked, keeping his tone neutral. 

To his credit, Mike didn’t dodge the question nor try to justify his actions. “No,” he’d simply said, and then they were on the move again.

That’s where they were now, running down a service and storage tunnel that was part of London’s underground system with Ben focusing on his breathing and his steps and the comfort of Mike’s presence. If they didn’t make it out of this, he’d die knowing that Mike had done everything humanly possible to protect him. And if they didn’t make it out of this, he’d also know that he’d be dying with someone that he cared for (far too much than was strictly proper). Ben had known this for quite some time, probably since Mike had re-taken his position as the Agent in Charge after Olympus but denial was a great thing, and Mike’s strict adherence to a strong military code an even greater barrier to Ben acting on any foolish notions. Ben had no doubt that Mike considered him to be a friend – a good friend – but he was equally certain that was as far as Mike’s affections went. Ben was the guy Mike sparred with, went jogging with, shot hoops with, occasionally kicked back and had a drink with. It just so happened that Ben was also the President of the United States. 

When Mike began to slow down, eventually stopping for a break, Ben stopped beside him with some relief. 

“You okay?” Mike asked, eyeing him critically. 

“Hell yeah,” Ben replied, hoping he didn’t sound as winded as he felt. “I’m made of bourbon and bad choices,” he threw in for good measure. 

The quip got the desired response and Mike flashed him a rare grin on such a bleak day. “Sit down,” he told Ben. “Take deep breaths.” 

Ben did as he was told, perching against a metal railing that jutted out from the curved wall of the steel tunnel.

For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. The sudden inactivity weighed on Ben. It brought to mind all the things that he’d carefully worked to keep at bay while they’d been running. The destruction and devastation of the day was almost overwhelming. 

“How many you think died?” he whispered, unable to stop himself. 

Mike, who had been checking the magazine of his weapon, stopped and looked at him. “I don’t know,” he said frankly. “A lot,” he added, as an afterthought. Mike was never one to sugarcoat anything. 

“All those innocent people,” Ben went on, trying to block the images from his mind. “Dead. Because of me.” 

“No. Not because of you,” Mike said forcefully, taking a step toward the other man. “Because of _them_. They’re trying to kill you, sir. And they’ve killed all these people just to make everyone else a little more afraid. Well, fuck that. And fuck them.”

Mike’s vitriol and anger sparked something in Ben and he stood up, closing the small distance between them until they were standing midway between the two sides of the tunnel. 

“Mike, you don’t let them take me,” he said. 

“I’m not going to,” Mike instantly replied. 

“Let me finish,” Ben said, cutting the other man off. “If it comes to it, if it’s –” 

“Sir –” 

“ _Mike_.”

The desperation in Ben’s voice coupled with the undercurrent of command silenced the other man. 

“If it comes to it,” Ben said calmly, certain now that Mike would no longer interrupt. “I want you to kill me. That’s an order. I will not be executed for propaganda so that my son and the American people see me on YouTube for the rest of their lives.” 

Mike’s gaze was intense. Standing this close to him even in the poor overhead lighting, Ben could make out the brown flecks in his green eyes. When Mike finally glanced away, capitulating in their showdown of wills, Ben immediately felt his heart sink. Was this the one order that Mike would be unable to follow from his Commander-in-Chief? 

When Mike looked at him again, there was something in his expression that Ben couldn’t place, an unfamiliar glint in Mike’s eyes that would’ve made him take a step back if he hadn’t already been pinned by that green gaze. 

“Mike?” he said, a little uncertainly. 

There was no uncertainty in Mike’s response. Before Ben could process what was happening, he was being pulled forward with a hand on his nape and then Mike’s lips were pressed against his. Ben submitted to the kiss instantly, not recognizing that the low moaning sound was coming from him as Mike’s tongue expertly swept through his mouth. The kiss ended as abruptly as it began with Mike resting his forehead against Ben’s, and Ben’s hands somehow landing on Mike’s hips. 

“Okay,” Mike finally agreed, his breath warm on Ben’s face. He lifted his head and pinned Ben once more with that intense green gaze. “But it’s not going to come to that.” 

When Mike stepped away, Ben had to stop himself from leaning into the other man. Mike’s professional veneer had fallen over him like a suit of armor and he was the Special Forces operative once more. 

“It’s time to go, sir,” he said, his voice that mixture of command and reassurance that made Ben instinctively trust him. 

But Ben was a mass of whirling and conflicting emotions. What the hell had just happened? His disorientation must have been plain to see because Mike reached out and put a hand on his elbow as if to steady him. 

“We’ll continue that conversation later, sir,” Mike said. 

Ben felt his breathing returning to normal and his heart no longer hammering quite so loudly in his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his vision was clear and all he could see was Mike. He nodded. 

“Lead on,” he said. 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** _Olympus Has Fallen_ and _London Has Fallen_ belong to their individual creators and Millennium Films. No infringement is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
